To whom it may concern,

I have been working for a while on another novel. This caused me to neglect my poetic outings which was definitely not the best idea I could have come up with. The longing I felt for my long lost lover captured my heart once more over the past few days. Poetry holds my interests far more than fiction ever could.

That being said, I do like writing fiction as well. The plus in fiction is that it sells. If poetry could sell, I would do nothing except write. I’m actually doing just that right now, since I am also looking for a job. This is exactly what I want to do with the rest of my life. Sure, I’m a college drop out, but at least I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.

I don’t plan on going back. My sister says that I should to get contacts, so I can find somewhere to publish my work. My problem isn’t the countless rejections I’d receive, it’s in the fact that I am far too lazy to send anything out. I refuse completely, if they don’t accept electronic submissions. To be honest, I’m lazy and scared of rejection, but I also don’t really care for publishing my poetry, as there is no money to be made. Fame has nothing for me– I prefer my lonely, antisocial tendencies.

I am halfway done with my second novel. I also plan on editing the first one as soon as I can print it out. I’d prefer to edit it on paper, so I can see my edits and decide whether or not I want to actually do them when I fix it on the computer. I’ve barely worked on my bathroom rock opera. It’s going, but ever so slowly. I pick it up and write a few lines here and there, but that’s all.

I’m also working on some other projects, such as starting to write on this blog more often, since I only seem to do it when something happens. The more projects I jumble, the easier it is to move my mind from one to another. I have more ideas for new novels after my first two. None of them will probably get anywhere; I don’t edit much, my craft isn’t that wonderful, especially for fiction.

Besides that, nothing much. The words are my love.